


Just Try

by RoRoWeasley



Series: all of the steps that led me to you [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Multi, pre-scorbus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoRoWeasley/pseuds/RoRoWeasley
Summary: It’s the worst day of Scorpius Malfoy’s life; he must say goodbye. Thank Merlin Albus is there to help him through it.





	Just Try

**Author's Note:**

> I lost my grandad just before Christmas with his funeral happening just before New Year which is what inspired this. I love a good dose of angst and naturally, Scorpius seemed the perfect character to make suffer too so...  
> The title is from a song by The 1975 that I can’t stop listening to (along with the Cursed Child soundtrack). Some dialogue is borrowed from the script – I own nothing!

* * *

**_“If you can’t survive, just try.”_ **

~ I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes) by The 1975 

* * *

 

The sky was overcast that day. Thick grey clouds swarmed overhead, suffocating the Dorset Downs, and there was a slight chill in the September air. Rain hammered the private cemetery plot, soaking the small crowd gathered in dress robes by the graveside.

Scorpius was almost glad for the rain. The physical sensation of the cool droplets colliding with the exposed skin of his face and neck, and the slight chill caused by his robes sticking to his arms and shoulders, were somewhat soothing. He was numb to everything else, having not yet fully succumbed to his grief. It was subconscious, pushing the hurt away, taken over by the overwhelming emptiness that made him feel nothing.

The last few weeks of summer had passed in a haze. He’d reread his favourite books but never smile. He’d forget to eat some days but never get a single growl from his stomach. He’d walk around the Manor gardens at night when he couldn’t sleep but his legs wouldn’t ache.

His mother was gone.

They had known for years it was inevitable, the blood curse was simply too vicious, but that didn’t make the finality any easier. Scorpius could tell there was something missing in his chest now, a part of his heart ripped away never to be fully healed.

His grey eyes took in the rows of headstones that were dotted around them as he breathed shakily. His parents had agreed beforehand that Astoria would be laid to rest in a plot far away from the Manor grounds, wanting to make sure Scorpius and his father could have a separate place to visit her. Scorpius was more than aware of his family’s legacy and their association with the Dark Arts, son of Voldemort rumours aside and was certainly grateful that they would forever keep his mother away from that legacy. She was every bit the opposite of what the Malfoy line was meant to be and Scorpius was proud to be her son.

He felt a hand slide into his and squeeze, a silent gesture which Scorpius was quick to return, the soft warmth of Albus Potter’s fingers encompassing his.

He hadn’t thought twice before asking Al to accompany him today. As soon as he’d seen his face again on September 1st, after the two months of summer apart, after the long hours spent by his mother’s bedside, after the days spent trying to formulate on paper how to tell him, he wanted Albus to be there with him.

_He’d been sat in the compartment already when Albus bounded in, getting to the platform early to avoid the crowds and brand new pitying stares. Or so he told himself._

_“Scorpius a-, are you okay?” A beat. Scorpius didn’t reply, how could he. ”Your mum, it’s got worse?”_

_“It’s got the worst it can possibly get,” he managed. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words._

_“I thought you’d send an owl.”_

_Scorpius winced. “I couldn’t work out what to say.” It sounded pathetic but he had tried so many times, the amount of paper he’d thrown into the fire had caused ash to spill out onto the drawing room floor._

_“And now I don’t know what to say.”_

_“Say nothing,” Scorpius assured. Albus was not going to feel guilty over this._

_“Is there anything-”_

_“-Come to the funeral.” His voice was small and pleading but he managed a small smile._

_“Of course.”_

_“And be my good friend.”_

Albus had owled the Potters that night to obtain permission to accompany him. Scorpius had been afraid they would say no, after all, it wasn’t much of a secret that their fathers were not happy with their friendship. But by the grace of Dumbledore and Merlin, the next morning Ginny Potter sent letters to both Albus and Scorpius expressing sympathy and assuring that Albus had permission to leave Hogwarts when the time came. There was also a care package for Scorpius, mostly containing food items, at which Albus had fondly remarked that this was what the Weasleys did when one of their family was sick, pregnant, or stressing. Scorpius had spent most of their first Charms lesson that morning working through misty eyes.

When the day came just over a week later, Albus and Scorpius both skipped breakfast, instead nibbling on some savoury crackers from Ginny’s care package, before changing into Muggle attire with their dress robes in their overnight bags and heading to Headmistress McGonagall’s office. They would floo over to Malfoy Manor to meet with Draco and get ready, before flooing on over to a pub next door to the undertakers. The cemetery itself was owned by wizards and based in a town Draco and Astoria had visited before Scorpius was even born, around forty miles away from the Manor.

It was a gorgeous place even in the rain, full of life with the tall willow trees, the different brightly coloured flowers dotted around, the well-kept headstones; signs of regular visitors and care. His mother’s grave was in a back corner of the cemetery near a row of lavender bushes. Scorpius took a deep contented breath and inhaled the scent. It took him back to being a child when he would fall over and start to cry but he’d be enveloped in the comfort of lavender, in his mother’s arms. When he’d sneak into his parents’ room on Christmas Eve or his birthday, the pillows always faintly smelled like lavender.

He was glad she was somewhere so peaceful. His entire being may have been numb as Astoria Malfoy’s coffin was gently lowered into the ground, but he could appreciate the beauty of the place. He could appreciate the comfort offered by his best friend. He could appreciate the precious time he had had with her on this earth.

The wake was back at Malfoy Manor. It had been a very private affair, invite-only, and his father was a gracious host and somewhat forcing Scorpius to put on a front of stability as he was introduced to every attendee. Albus clung somewhat awkwardly to the back-most corner of the drawing room, suddenly interested in the bookshelves and trying to be inconspicuous. Despite this, Scorpius had had to rescue him multiple times once several attendees cottoned on to his being a Potter.

Later that afternoon found Scorpius leading Albus upstairs and along the first-floor corridor to his bedroom in order to escape the rigid atmosphere of the wake. He was emotionally and physically exhausted. After talking politely with as many of his father’s Ministry colleagues and stoic relatives for as long as he could stand, he decided he needed some personal space. He still didn’t want to be completely alone though and was immensely grateful for Albus’ presence.

He sank down onto his bed, too lethargic to even begin taking off his dress robes and change into something more comfortable, his eyes fixed on the photograph of him and his mother on the bedside table. It had been taken before she took a turn for the worse. She was on her feet and smiling down at him, they’d been walking around the gardens not twenty feet from the Manor, the sun blazing down, the air full of the sweet scent of the colourful flowers. There was so much love visible in her eyes it tore at Scorpius’ chest even more and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He felt the bed dip beside him as Albus sat, not saying anything but it didn’t matter. He was just happy his best friend was there.

How on earth he’d have gotten through this without Albus he had no idea. They’d only known each other two years but it was clear, at least in his mind, that they would be best friends for the remainder of their lives. Albus understood him, laughed with him, listened to him, and had never abandoned him through all of the strife they’d had to endure so far. Albus wasn’t scared away by the son of Voldemort rumours. Albus wasn’t put off by the constant tormenting they faced at school, the many students who delighted in making their lives miserable; the name-calling, the teasing, the occasional outstretched leg which would cause Scorpius to tumble to the ground in a heap. Albus Potter was always there, glaring viciously at anyone who attacked them or openly challenging the rumours appearing in the Prophet concerning his bloodline.

Albus wasn’t just a best friend, Scorpius mulled over, he was something just a little bit more. Brother was perhaps the wrong word, but there was a deep routed connection between them that Scorpius knew he would willingly die for. Al made him feel safe, made him feel stronger.

“Thank you for being here, Al.” His voice was cracked and dull, like stale bread.

“Anytime, mate.”

“I miss her.”

An arm snaked around his shoulders and squeezed comfortingly. “I know and I’m sorry that there’s not much I can say, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Just don’t leave me, please.” And on that last word he broke. Everything that he hadn’t been able to feel since his mother’s passing, everything that he’d kept hidden so as to not further upset his father, all came out. White hot tears began to escape his eyes but he made no move to stop them.

Albus moved and Scorpius momentarily blanched, only to realize his friend was plonking himself down against the pillows. The second he caught his eye, Albus opened his arms out in invitation and he wasted no time in crawling over and collapsing into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into Albus’ chest.

He’d become so used to the numbness, welcoming it, that he’d bottled everything up. Never allowed himself to process that his mother was dead. She would never again smile at him. Never again hug and kiss him goodnight. Never again wave him goodbye on the platform. Never again answer his letters. Never again laugh at one of his father’s jokes.

Scorpius cried his heart out, his mind unloading everything upon him like a burst dam. Albus just held him, occasionally stroking his hair, allowing him to fall apart, letting him know he was safe by muttering assurances.

“Let it all out.”

“I’m here.”

“We’ll get through this.”

Too overcome, Scorpius couldn’t speak, simply curling himself closer to his best friend who held on just as tightly, hands fisting into the front of Albus’ robes as emotion after emotion racked his frame. He had no idea what time it was, only that the slow and steady beat of the heart beneath his head was gradually setting a pace for his breathing. Scorpius was beginning to crash from the breakdown, the tension finally leaving his body. Albus didn’t loosen his grip on him either and that extra nugget of comfort allowed him to fully relax into the realm of sleep, still in Albus’ arms.

They both fell asleep like that, still in their dress robes, not even stirring when Draco peaked in later that night. He summoned the spare duvet from the closet, draped it over them with a wave of his wand and left without a word, not having the heart to disturb them.

 

 

  
_Aesthetic made by me._


End file.
